


Her Influence

by ScullyLovesQueequeg



Series: Fictober 2019 [16]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Complete, F/M, MSR, NSFW, RST, Season/Series 07, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyLovesQueequeg/pseuds/ScullyLovesQueequeg
Summary: Mulder and Scully go on a date (sort of) to a poetry reading and Mulder doesn't want to stay. Scully’s got some tricks to make sure he doesn't leave.





	Her Influence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suilven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suilven/gifts).

> Written for Andrea for the Spooky Fanfic Exchange. The word I got was ‘Incantation'. I tried to do something that was a little different than the Harry Potter method of flicking a wand and shouting in Latin. It’s all kind of implied, I guess. No beta because I am baby and didn’t even finish it in a feasible enough time for a beta.
> 
> Also counts as **Day 19** for Fictober.
> 
> Thank you:  
\- K, for always encouraging me and making sure I stayed hydrated ;)  
\- Shayna, for also being a source of encouragement  
\- Anika, for listening to my ideas  
\- Val, for also encouraging me  
\- Grammarly for telling me that I use too many commas. 
> 
> And last but not least, Nicole, for putting all of this together!

"Hey Mulder," Scully said, as Mulder made his way into the office, late. He glanced at her and gave her a nod of greeting, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. He made his way to his desk and shuffled through the letters he was carrying.

"Are you doing anything this evening?" Scully asked, watching as Mulder tossed the intra-office mail into two piles. He paused, mid-toss and glanced at her, trying to read her expression.

"No, why? You asking me on a date?"

Scully gave him a look, her cheeks going a slight pink.

"Perhaps. Holly, Skinner's former secretary, invited me to watch her perform poetry," Scully said, standing a picking up the envelopes he was tossing, presumably to be hers. She sorted through them.

"Sounds boring," Mulder said, sitting to read his mail. Scully sighed.

"I know, but this is Holly, and… she's one of the few friends we have at the bureau. No thanks to you," She said, and Mulder glanced up at her, frowning.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"...nothing. Anyway, if you change your mind, we'll be at Dead Drop, at around 7. I'd love to have you there if it's no bother."

There was something about the way her voice fell, the words, and the timing that cause Mulder to seriously consider the offer, despite not liking poetry. Her words had power over him and could sway him, that was true. He was fully aware of this. And yet, he didn't even always catch it himself. She could get him to jump off a bridge if she asked. All his response would have been was, 'Which one?'

"You just want me to go so you can drink," Mulder teased, and Scully gave him a genuine laugh.

"I don't need to go to a bar to do that. But if you're offering…"

“I’m not offering. If we’re going to a poetry reading, I’m not going to be sober for it,” Mulder said, the jocular tone still present, though in a diminished capacity. “I’ll go but I’m not driving anyone.”

“That’s fair. Thank you for agreeing to come.”

Mulder watched as Scully took her hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. He had been working with her long enough to know that it was her tell for nervousness, especially when it came paired with speech. His was more subtle; his jaw had a tendency to tense up. Mulder said nothing more however and dug through his pockets to find a couple of sunflower seeds. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been there but he popped them into his mouth.

_'A poetry reading. She won’t go to Roswell, she won’t go to Lake Okobogee again, but she wants to go to a poetry reading? God, and she got me to say yes so easily.'_ Mulder thought to himself. Aloud, he said:

“...Is that something you find interesting? Poetry, I mean. Do you often go to these?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” Scully responded, though she did not elaborate. He could only imagine what the crowd would be like. He imagined angry women, some with shaved heads, some with metal littering their face, some with spikes. To him, Scully didn’t fit in. She didn’t seem angry enough.

* * *

When Mulder got to the bar, he realized that his assumptions of the attendees were in fact, wrong. He was more surprised to see that there were more men than women there. The crowd was diverse, enough that Mulder wondered if he was at the right place. If he was being honest, most of the men there looked like him—like they had just gotten off at work and didn’t have time to change. Nervous men, shuffling their paper and their feet. There were more people than he expected too---it was the second most time he had ever seen the place packed!

He spotted Scully sitting at a table with Holly, and sighed inwardly, heading to the bar to buy a pitcher of beer. He wasn't a big drinker--not even in the slightest, but it also wasn't every day that he got asked to go to a poetry reading.

"Ladies," Mulder said, joining them at the booth with the pitcher and some mugs. Scully and Holly looked up at Mulder and then the pitcher.

"Thanks for coming Agent Mulder," Holly said, looking back down at her paper. She seemed nervous, rustling her papers over and over again. Scully noticed this and placed a hand on her forearm.

"You're going to do great. Most of these people look like they don't know what they are doing. You do, so go in there and knock it out of the park!"

"Why are there so many people here? It seems a bit much for a poetry reading…" Mulder commented, pouring himself a beer, and then one for Scully and Holly. Holly quickly slammed hers back and poured herself another.

"It's not just a poetry reading, it's a contest too. The poem that gets the biggest reaction or something wins the prize, which is $500." Holly explained. Mulder let out a long, impressed whistle. The more he learned about this, the more he was reconsidering his preconceived notions of poetry in general.

"So you're telling me, that these people are all here for a chance to win $500?" Mulder asked, and Holly nodded, though there was a look of concern on her features.

"Yes, but… it's not about the money. At least to me, it isn't. I see some of the regulars are here, but I guess. The bar wanted to attract more people so they decided to throw a contest… usually, we just read our poems… it's all very strange. Rumor has it that this is because of the owner's new girlfriend. She's got sway over her. I know the owner, she lives in my building… but ever since she started dating this girl… she just does whatever she says. But I guess that's love, it makes you do stupid things that don't make sense. That's what my poem is about, I just hope they don't think it's stupid..." Holly commented nervously. Scully pat her shoulder.

"Try not to worry too much about it. We'll be right here," Scully remarked, and Holly gathered her things and headed to the back, with the other participants.

"So, we can leave now if you want," Mulder said, half kidding. Scully shot him a dirty look.

"Look, Mulder, I'll tell you what: If you stay, I can make it worth your while. It won't be much but… if you can stop complaining, maybe I'll do something for you." 

Mulder wasn't sure what to think of that so he sighed and started drinking his beer. Scully began drinking her beer as well, and Mulder wondered if he was going to regret having decided to come. Despite his desire to leave, the thought of disappointing Scully left him glued to the seat.

If he was being fully honest with himself, this was an improvement over his usual activities--masturbating, watching TV, and sometimes, both simultaneously. He was spending time with Scully, which he never considered a waste, and it was nice to have his presence wanted. It was rare, even regarding Scully, given how much time they spent with each other all day, but he would not look a gift horse in the mouth. They were dating (or something close to it) and he genuinely valued any and all time he spent with her.

_'If this is how I have to spend my time with Scully…' He thought as the first contestant stepped up to the mic on the stage, 'I could think of worse things we could be doing.'_

Five contestants in and Mulder was already bored. There seemed to be at least 10 more, including Holly, who was up at the moment. The minutes seemed to tick by slowly. Scully had moved to join his side of the booth they were in, which was nice, but it still didn't make the time go any faster.

"I just want to make it clear that this is absolutely not my idea of a good time," Mulder said, rolling his eyes and reaching for the pitcher of beer in the middle of the table. Scully glanced up at him and gave a sympathetic smile.

"I know Mulder, but it would have been rude not to come. I know you're here for me, so... At least let me do something for you," Scully said, reaching into his lap. 

"Why isn't Skinner here? That's her boss… a poetry reading… of all the things we could be doing--" Mulder stopped when he glanced down and found her hands unzipping his pants.

He knew better than to ask her what she was doing. He also knew not to attract so much attention, either. He felt a momentary shock of cold air, and then warmth, as Scully's hand gently brought his dick right out into his lap. He wanted to laugh, but it had happened so suddenly, that all he could do was bring a lazy arm around her shoulders, and let her take control. There was a pull in his gut, as he felt the blood begin to flow. He was a bundle of nerves, and the only outward sign (at least from what anyone else could see) was his hand gripping Scully's shoulder.

The noise in the bar began to simmer down as Mulder worked to control his breathing, and tried to seem as if Scully's soft, but firmly gripping hand wasn't sliding up and down his cock. Holly stepped out on to the stage with her poem. 

Mulder let his gaze drift idly around the smoke-filled bar, stopping on one person, in particular, a nervous-looking man who had recited a poem previously--a rhyming bit about money--who was mouthing something incomprehensible. Mulder watched him a couple of moments longer, noting that he continued to look up at Holly, every so often. Mulder himself finally stopped staring to look at Holly, who had not yet spoken a word.

He looked to Scully, but she had her gaze firmly fixed on Holly, and gave his now rigid shaft a squeeze, to denote that he do the same. Mulder shifted in his seat, which caused Scully to tug, and he gave a low moan of pleasure that Scully was quick to cover with a kiss.

If anyone cared, they didn't say anything. And still, neither did Holly. When Scully broke the kiss, Mulder's first instinct was to regard the lack of sound coming from the stage. There was a murmur that started the longer time passed in which Holly did not speak. 

"Damn, are you going to say something?!" Someone shouted, and then there was actual speaking--all mumbled, and finally, Holly began to recite her poem.

Mulder's eyes drifted back into his lap as he felt Scully's hand moving a little faster. His breathing had gotten quicker too, and he was quickly losing the ability to keep still in his seat. He squirmed, his hips lifting just a little, perhaps not even purposely. 

"You better tell me when you're about to finish," Scully whispered, almost threateningly. This caused another pull at his gut, and he dared himself to speak.

"Only if you let me finish on your face." His voice was strained and came out from between quick breaths. 

"I'm not letting you do that but if you won't tell me…" Scully said, letting his cock go. She really was all business.

"No!" He protested, a little too loud causing a couple of people to look over. Mulder sank into his seat, his face a beet red, while Scully puffed up smugly.

"Fine, fine… but the next time we have sex, I want to finish on your face." He felt her warm hand take him again, and she gave a couple of firm tugs before she started stroking him yet again.

"OK, next time then."

It was only a couple of minutes when Holly was finally done speaking, and Mulder felt his cock begin to twitch as the audience applauded for her.

"Oh fuck, I'm about to cum," He warned, and Scully gave him a sly look. She pulled away for him just long enough to duck under the table. He opened his mouth to speak but felt something warm and wet engulf him, and he knew that she had switched to using her mouth. His hand grasped the back of her head and his body shifted a little. Her mouth was like velvet, and he could feel her tongue, exploring his taste and his texture.

Holly walked over to the table, looking despondent, and it took a moment for Mulder to notice her since his focus was exclusively on the activity taking place under the table.

"Where is Agent Scully?" Holly asked, reaching over and pouring herself some more beer. Mulder gave a half-hearted shrug, feeling Scully's hot breath approaching his balls, as she took those into her mouth. He shifted in his seat suddenly, but not enough to make Holly suspicious.

"She was in the bathroom, but that was ten minutes ago… maybe go check?" Mulder managed to say, his voice low and husky. He cleared his throat as Holly gave him a funny look.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm starting to feel the booze, I guess. Your poem was great by the way," Mulder said, feeling Scully squeeze his thigh reassuringly and move back over to give his shaft some attention. Holly smiled and thanked him quietly, before getting up to go to the bathroom.

It didn't take long after Holly left for it to be too much for him, and he erupted into Scully's mouth. She swallowed all of it, and her tongue passed over his tip, as he began to come down from his high. She started to stroke him, her mouth kissing all over until she finally let him go. She then slid up to join him in the booth again. Mulder buttoned and zipped his pants and looked at her, his face completely flushed.

"Jesus Christ," He said, unable to really say much more than that. Scully laughed and poured herself another mug of beer as Holly rejoined them again. Mulder sat, stunned, as he continued to catch his breath.

"There you are Agent Scully… where were you? I came by before and you weren't here," Holly said, and Scully gave her a smile.

"I found a set of keys in the bathroom and was giving them to the bartender. They were trying to help me find out who could have dropped it. Turns out, it was another bartender. Imagine that. Anyway," Scully said, taking a sip of beer, "I heard your poem, and I think you did a great job… you should be proud."

"You don't think that me botching the start won't hurt my chances?"

"No," Mulder said, rejoining the conversation, but still in a daze. "They'll chalk it up to nerves. So, when is your next one?"

"Oh, in a couple of weeks… did you guys want to come back again?" Holly asked, and Mulder glanced at Scully, who smirked and glanced away.

"I'm sure if Scully wants to… I'll be there too."


End file.
